


Fearsome

by rudbeckia



Series: Sugar Daddy Hux [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Because of an anonymous extortionist, Armitage and Ben find out more about each other than they really wanted to know. Can they overlook their past selves?





	Fearsome

Ben trod on the thick, manila envelope as he closed the front door behind him. He frowned and picked it up, depositing the mail from the mailbox on the table by the staircase. Armitage was in the USA again and the house felt cavernous and empty with only his echoing footfalls for company. Ben turned the envelope the right way up and raised his eyebrows. It was addressed to him.

_Mr Ben Solo. Confidential._

He put it down while he sorted the conventional mail into three piles: probably junk; things to leave until Armitage gets home; things to give to Phasma when she calls round later.

Upstairs in the suite he shared with Armitage, Ben changed into sweats and allowed himself the illicit pleasure of stretching one of Armitage’s older designer teeshirts over his large frame. One that smelled of him. Armitage would only complain for a minute until he’d smile his forgiveness and confess that he liked to see Ben in tight clothing. Ben went back downstairs, or _down-downstairs_ as they’d been calling it, to where his laptop was set up on the pine table of the dining room beside the kitchen. He smiled, as he always did, because the areas of the huge house that were designed for servants always felt the most welcoming. He settled himself, remembered the strange manila envelope, cursed and went back upstairs to get it.

Inside he found a collection of annotated documents and photographs.

One - a date-stamped monochrome photograph of Brendol Hux drinking champagne, with Phasma and Armitage watching in the background.  
Two - a text message exchange between Armitage and Phasma, couched in careful terms and euphemism.  
Three - a transcript of a police interview with himself regarding the night of Brendol’s death.  
Four and Five - two more transcripts, these ones of interviews with two other wait staff on duty that night.  
Six - a colour copy of a photograph of Brendol Hux collapsed on the floor, a look of terror on his florid face.  
Seven - a copy of the post-mortem examination of Brendol Hux.  
Eight - a certified copy of the financial records of _First Order Industries_ in the six months preceding Brendol’s death, and the six months after Armitage took over.  
Nine - a copy of a social services report into allegations of emotional abuse and neglect of a minor by his parents, instigated by a teacher fired from a well-known boarding school.  
Ten - a profile of a ten year old boy by a child psychologist.  
Eleven - a handwritten note asking Ben if he knew his lover was a cold-blooded murderer.

 _Odd,_ thought Ben. _I would have thought this trove would have come with a demand for cash._

 

Meanwhile Armitage stared at his screen. The email came from an account that was probably hacked, the dormant account of some kid with a poor grasp of security, but the attachments looked genuine. Of course he would have Unamo check them out, but he couldn’t stop himself from reading them first. His eyes gobbled up the details. Ben Solo was an assumed name, a fake, a fraud. A donated and enforced identity. Certainly not the person who had killed three other children in a frenzied attack at school then, years later, stabbed his own father with a saber.

 _Huh,_ thought Armitage. _Wonder when the demand for money will arrive?_

 

Armitage saw Ben at the arrivals barrier and smiled at his outfit. Ben wore a cheap blue suit with a slight sheen to the crackly fabric, and a peaked cap. He looked every inch the chauffeur. When he saw Armitage, Ben flashed his iPad with the screen displaying the word _Angelcake_ in fuchsia script. Armitage laughed and nobody cared. 

“Nice suit,” said Armitage with a wink. “Primark?”  
“Tesco,” replied Ben. “There was a sale and I had a job interview.”  
“And the hat?”  
“From a cop Halloween costume.”  
“Did you wear that to your job interview?” Armitage let Ben take his bags. “You never cease to impress me but wear a tie instead next time.”  
“It was for a postdoc position.” Ben sighed. “I won’t get it — the professor’s best pal’s nephew was a candidate. Your car awaits.”  
“Please tell me you brought the Range Rover?” Hux looked up at Ben, sympathetic smile ready. Ben shook his head.  
“Nope. Seriously scared of scratching it. You got any idea how _big_ it is compared to normal parking spaces?”

Armitage folded himself into the passenger seat of the Micra and groaned something about travel and his back. Ben laughed.  
“Let me get you home and we can see about that. Massage? Jacuzzi? Both?”  
Armitage’s only answer was a wide smile.

Neither happened right away. When Ben parked in the driveway, helped Armitage out of the tiny car and retrieved his luggage, Phasma loomed beside them. “We should go inside,” she said. “We all need to talk.”

Phasma stood in the old servants’ dining room while Armitage and Ben sat.  
“You each contacted me about a possible extortion threat. Yes?” She glared at each in turn and they nodded.  
“Ben, you handed over documents you received anonymously that claim to prove that Armitage and I carried out a premeditated plan to murder Brendol Hux.”  
Ben nodded and emitted a soft _uh-huh._  
“Armitage, you forwarded an anonymised email with attachments that claim to show that Ben Solo is an assumed identity and this man,” she pointed at Ben, “murdered three students and his father.”  
Armitage nodded and softly said, “Yes.”  
“So,” Phasma said as she pulled out a chair and sat. “To me, the truth is irrelevant. Have either of you any idea who might be behind this? You need to narrow the task for Unamo and I.”

Armitage immediately reeled off a list of names while Phasma took notes and Ben sat stunned. 

Once Phasma had left to start her own investigation, Ben and Armitage sat opposite one another.  
“Is it true? Any of it?” asked Ben, voice a little shrill and gaze locked on his own hands resting on the table. Armitage sighed and leaned forwards.  
“All of the documents you saw are genuine. So, yes. I plotted with Phasma to get rid of the old bastard and replace him. You were... you were _there,_ Ben. You were in the right place at the right time and _jeez_ you were so beautiful. Please!” Armitage held up his hand to silence Ben’s incipient protest. “Let me finish before you judge me. If you hadn’t come to my room that night, or if you’d wanted to leave early, I would have called the whole thing off. Postponed it, I suppose. But you stayed and we drank champagne. Or you did, at least, and I pretended. When you fell asleep I slipped out to help Phasma and that’s why there are eyewitness accounts that I was seen when I was supposed to be with you. But the bar staff had been drinking too and nobody trusted their account of the evening. Phasma gave Brendol one poison and I administered the other and we watched him go into respiratory arrest and then he was dead. Once I was sure the old git would never breathe again, I came back to bed with you. I had honestly never felt better about the future.”

“You murdered your father.” Ben’s voice shook and his hands trembled. Armitage did not dare touch. He gripped his hands into tight fists.  
“Yes. I confessed that to you so I am in your power now. Will you go to the police with what you know?”

Armitage thought of his phone and Phasma’s particularly fearsome talents, and silently prayed to a god he did not believe in that Ben would offer his silence.

“So did I.”  
“What?” Armitage frowned. “You mean—“  
“I read every word. You killed your father because he abused you for years and he had it coming. I killed mine and he did not deserve it at all. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time saying all the wrong things and I... I...” Ben dropped his head into his hands. “I killed him because he was right and I couldn’t take it and I would do _anything_ to go back and... and not. Just not be there. But that’s not how it works, is it? I thought... I thought killing him would set me free but...”  
Ben shook his head and heaved out sobs stifled by his arm across his mouth. Armitage pulled his chair close and caressed Ben’s hair.  
“Fucking hell,” he said softly. “What a pair we are.”

Ben calmed after a while. Armitage took his hand and led him up-upstairs to the room with the Darth Vader bedding, made him undress and get into bed. Armitage lay beside Ben, on top of the quilt and fully dressed. He spoke reassuring nonsense into Ben’s left ear and stroked Ben’s right arm. Ben slept eventually and Armitage texted Phasma to say it was probably all true. Phasma returned links to sensationalist newspaper stories about _”...the most evil child in America!”_ and Armitage sent back a rebuke that she should only concern herself with facts.

 

The weak light of morning slanted through the blinds and made sharp, parallel lines across Ben’s face. He woke slowly with a head full of fog and a dry mouth, and a dead arm from Armitage’s head on his left shoulder. He shifted and shuffled until Armitage woke with a groan.  
“Uuugh Ben. I love you but I need coffee.” Armitage rolled over and clattered, cursing, to the floor. He pushed himself up and stood on unsteady feet. “Come down-down when you’re ready.”  
Ben let Armitage’s footsteps recede before he sat up and found his clothes. He dressed quickly and checked the room for his few belongings, piling everything on the bed. Then he ventured down to the kitchen.

Waitwaitwaitwhatdidhesay

Halfway down the staircase, Ben stopped and frowned. The frown stayed on his face even when he accepted a cup of fresh coffee from Armitage. He sipped and sipped again. Armitage waited.  
“Um,” Ben said, ”I can move out whenever you want me to. Guess I need a change. Fresh start. I can finish my thesis anywhere now. Like, maybe... France is nice. Or Switzerland. Je sais parler français un peut.”

“No, no, no.” Armitage shook his head as he refilled Ben’s cup and his own. “We have an office in Hong Kong, so there is good, or have you thought about just staying here with me in London?”  
Ben’s mouth dried. He sipped his coffee, swilled and swallowed the bitter liquid just so that he could form words. “Why would you want that? You executed someone you hated. I murdered people I loved and I’m terrified I might do it again.”  
Armitage stood close to Ben and kept his voice slow and quiet. “I love you.” He turned his face up, closer to Ben’s ear. “I love you. Do you love me?”  
“Yes. I love you.” Ben’s eyes opened and he gazed into Armitage’s face. Armitage smiled, cupped Ben’s cheek and kissed him.  
“Then I’m prepared to take the risk. Are you?”

Despite the growing fear in his gut, Ben nodded.


End file.
